Payday: Blackout
by Hb2productions
Summary: Some say I'm a criminal. Criminal is an understatement. Others say I'm a felon. Don't make me laugh. Then there are those who say I'm a sociopath. These are the people who know what they're talking about. Introducing myself is practically a waste of time, so let me save the trouble of rebidding and get right to the point. I fucking hate people. I do, however, like cash.


Chapter 1: Welcome

October 15, 2013- 2:19 A.M.

My needs are simple and few; food, clothing, a comfortable place to sleep, and _no_ idiots. But of course a world with no idiots would be lonely…not to mention boring as hell. Take me for example. I grew up around idiots, hell, I was practically raised by idiots. You may think that I myself would also be a moron, but you'd think wrong. As a matter of fact, I find myself to be the complete opposite, not to brag. Although some (or many) believe this to be complete malarkey, I educate myself from past experiences and correct myself when I am about to make the same aberration.

This seems to be a reoccurring theme when it comes to learning from your mistakes, but most people don't seem to have the mental capability to remember certain things. Everybody that I've met in my life, at least, doesn't understand. It seems as if I've wandered far from the topic I wanted to discuss, so I'll cease my useless banter and get straight to the point, as if it wasn't obvious enough. I fucking _hate_ people. The definition of "people" is quoted straight from the dictionary, "human beings in general or considered collectively." Take my first three words and add them to this definition, it would mean the exact same thing.

However, my statement might somewhat contradict what I have to say next. I don't exactly hate every human being, but a majority of them. A 'majority' being the select few I've ever met in my lifetime. The things they do just…get under my skin, and I happen to have _very_ thin skin. Like I said though, those idiots I grew up around are the ones that I can actually stand. This might have been from my disrupted childhood, a time when I never really had much food, clothing, or shelter. A time period where younger me was impressionable. You see, at a very young age I learned that if you want something, you have to work for it. And if that first plan doesn't work, try forcibly taking it instead. If you do it right, you'll never fail. These people who taught me this valuable lesson happened to be some of the most dangerous and wanted thieves in the United States.

For most of my life, I was confined in a little old orphanage known as "St. Ann's Infant and Maternity Home." I originated from a small town called Elkton, Maryland, which was coincidentally one of the most dangerous cities in the entire state. Since I was raised in an asylum for practically my whole life, I never knew that much about my parents until recently. The most I can remember from my childhood is that my mother and father used to fight quite a lot, and I caught both of them smoking or snorting something on a daily basis. When the drug usage started, I could remember being taken away from my small home, never to see it or my parents again. I guess it didn't matter that much anyway though, since they couldn't afford to take care of me anymore, (Or just didn't want to) It was probably all for the greater good. So I was transferred by the government all the way to Washington D.C., where I prepared myself for a whole new life.

From the Beginning, I can remember faintly the day I was taken away. "I'm sorry Mrs. Zanderson. By the legal request of the Supreme Court, I have been issued to take your daughter with us." said the lady in the black pantsuit. I was staring out the open window of the tall, black SUV, staring at my grieving mother. "This is unacceptable! You cannot just take my daughter away from me! This is uncivilized, this is…." The lady cut her off. "The law?" she said calmly. I could tell by the look on her face, my mother was on the verge of breaking out into tears. "Please, don't take my baby away…" She intertwined her fingers together in a begging position. All she had to do was get onto her knees and she would look exactly like a homeless beggar. "Mrs. Zanderson. _Please._" She told my mother. "There is nothing I can do for you now. Unless you are willing to pay the government fee, the only way to get your child back is by changing your ways and shaping a better place for your family to live in. Then you may come to court to file for reclaiming your child." She turned to walk away, but my mother caught her by the arm. "How do you think that is possible with my slob of a husband and dirt income?!" She shouted. The woman shook off my mother's grip. "That is not my business, Mrs. Zanderson, good day." She walked to the truck and got in next to me. I averted my gaze from my mother and focused on the mats lining the floor of the vehicle. The lady slammed the door shut and motioned to the driver in the front to drive. My seatbelt was strapped tightly to my chest as I sat uncomfortably in the car seat. I had never had a car seat before; it might need some getting used to. I noticed the pantsuit lady looking over to me, but I ignored her most of the way until she had the audacity to talk. "Hello sweetheart, what's your name?" She asked in a soothing tone. I slowly raised my head up to look at her, my emotion not changing.

"Blaire." I said quietly and looked back at the floor. "How old are you?"

"Three." I said while still looking down. "What is your favorite color-"

"Blue." I said before she finished. If she continued pestering me like this, I would lose it.

She stopped with the questioning immediately. I craned my neck to stare out the window, watching all the familiar locations around my home disappear in a blur. After about three minutes passed by, the beautiful silence was broken once again. "Blaire is a very nice name."

I snapped my head in her direction. Her sweet smile faded when she caught a glimpse of my serious expression. I pressed a finger to my two closed lips and whispered, "Shhh…" The lady's expression turned slightly sour. "Mommy says silence is golden…you might want to take Mommy's advice." I said in the lowest volume that I could speak. I looked back out the glass, staring at the flashing colors speeding across my line of vision.

"But thank you."


End file.
